Well, I thought this cold near enough Christmas to ensure a safe holiday season but, oh no, ho ho ho, would that be the case? Of course not! I am in the midst of some other germ bout, with an open tap in place of a nose and a face as red as Santa’s. Yes, sure, it could be worse but, believe me, it could also be infinitely better. Why is it that of all days in the whole year I have to be poorly today? Why not any other day? Why not next week?
On a related note, I was thinking earlier today that if only we ourselves followed our own advice, life would be much easier. Because, you see, we are all great at dispensing advice, but not so good at following our own pearls of wisdom. It’s a case of talking the talk and walking nowhere. When male friends ask for an opinion on what to bestow on their significant others at Christmas, I always say this: ‘Absolutely anything but clothes’. And you know why? Not because clothes aren’t welcome to the female, but because they come in different sizes and females have a distinct tendency for blurting out the size they used to be or the one they wished they were and not the size they are. So absolutely no no no clothes under the tree, even if she begs for a Lanvin dress.
Why oh why did I tell my parents that I would have looooved a certain something to wear but was economic with the truth? Why did I, of all well-adjusted fashionable people, or all switched-on women with great female sensitivity and knowledge of the female mind was conservative on the bit about size? And so part two of the misery is this stinking cold and part three is a fabulous skirt that doesn’t fit me. Or it would have fit me if this had been Crimbo 2006 instead of 2008. And so the misery, and the diet, begins right now. Like today. In fact, it has already begun. That'll teach me.